Not Just the Fairytale
by MadHattess
Summary: Revised and expanded.  The survivors of the Obsidian Lord's Festival are the stuff of legends.  They are a fantastical collection of stories, but they are also something more: They are real.


Disclaimer: Thank you for playing Find the Owner: Mai HiME Version! Unfortunately this is not a winning ticket as this author is not Sunrise in disguise. Please try again.

**Not Just the Fairytale**

Midori held her 'thesis' in one hand and a bottle in the other. She had done the research. She had seen the proof— and the world at large would never believe more of the Festival and the HiME than they ever had, not really. She and the others were the stuff of legends. That was a fancy way to say they were a fairytale, a hoax. But then, she had studied folk lore, rumors, artists' fancies put on the side of pots… and it had enabled her to write her thesis, to reveal the workings of the Festival, and put some small light on a few of the women who had suffered through the previous one. Midori was proud of that accomplishment, and in deciding that she made another decision. She would write again. This time she would leave the clue, shrouded in mysticism and doubt. She would draw a picture of 13 princesses who fought a dragon and who would live happily ever after even if they had to claw tooth and nail for it the entire way.

_"Once upon a time…"_  
_There had been a Sleeping Beauty— or would it be more appropriate to call her Snow White? On the one hand, Mashiro had been burdened with a 'destiny'. She had followed the course set for her by the manipulations of others. Had she been the fairest of them all? Who was to say? She had been the most determined of them all, and her reward was not so unlike that fabled coffin of glass, though it lacked those seven dear companions._

In the case of Fumi, this maid was no prisoner, no beauty hidden in the ashes. Here there was no evil family— rather she had been taken into the castle, and it had been her pleasure to serve. Her Queen of Hell had been her redemption and now… she wondered how Cinderella would have fared if her prince had passed on, and her castle along with her 'happily ever after' had turned to ash. Perhaps, she reasoned, Cinderella too would have done as Fumi had and merely gone about picking up the pieces, cleaning the mess, just as maid should do.

_"There were 13 princesses…"_  
_Mirror, mirror, please don't tell, who's most fearful of them all. A queen, a goddess, a mouse- even an attempt at the role of the huntsman. In this version none of them were truly evil, but none of them were fully good either. Human, for better or for worse and HiME too. Yukino gazed into her army of mirrors and looked for a way to be safe, to be happy. It was so frustrating that the two seemed always determined to be mutually exclusive._

Akane had a concept of emptiness and of powerlessness that she had never wanted to possess. She wasn't a creature of large goals. Eventually she wanted a family. She wanted to be surrounded by love and people who were willing to support her but who **would not need to**. She didn't want perfection because she didn't want to be perfection in order to deserve it. She'd be happy enough with good enough. And now, with a concept of emptiness and powerlessness in the face of despair, 'good enough' had a new magic she would not have seen before.

_"Not one alike…"_  
_A princess with a frog— or was the frog the princess herself? But then, at the beginning of this tale, it was difficult to tell: prince, princess, or even HiME. Of course, it was simply a circumstance called practicality which had lead to her disguise being that of a prince, rather than a frog. It was truth that she was revealed, even transformed by love, freely given. Perhaps this time the story had a few more twists, turns, and issues of gender identity. It was still sweet— not that anyone would say it to Akira's face when she didn't have her Takumi by her side to calm her._

Shiho knew a little something about princes bearing frogs. She knew about things that weren't what they seemed, and also about things that (sadly) were exactly how they seemed, no matter how much you wished otherwise. She kept trying to kiss her frog and he kept leaping away. Shiho knew that eventually she would have to let him go, but for now she needed to hold on to the chase, just for a little longer, until she found out what manner of creature **she** was, beneath the powers, the curses, and the battles that could not be won.

_"For they were not sisters…"_  
_Wolf was not the threat of choice, but one did use deception to move hearts and events. The girl who cried hurt and madness was somewhat more sophisticated. Three illusions, three cries: first the false tale of her own defeat at the hands of Nao, second the making of a maze of the woods the night Takumi faded into stone, and the last her attempted ensnarement of Mai in a world of dreams and peace. The last cry was not believed however and the cycle was broken, ironically leading to Yukariko making real the object of her first illusion. The wolves had come, just as she said, but on her own terms. She went as a woman, more a HiME than a shepherd. _

Nao came home to find the wolves had struck hard and fast, leaving only a remnant of a mother. Little Red's family, life, and certainly her innocence were taken that day. Those wolves of men had made her a victim. Years later, in front of a far less devious monster, she learned that she had claws of her own. She couldn't go back in time and save her family, but she would never be a victim again. She'd make** them** into victims. They deserved it. All of them.

_"Only a few could be called friends…"_  
_Star crossed lovers? So it had certainly seemed. Before the curtain fell they did not become butterflies. They were not palms, with branches reaching for each other. They were closer to being those rocks in the ocean, marking the place where fabled lovers drowned. Trapped in pillars of stone, separate from the one whose love condemned them, broken in themselves to the essence of their lives._

Mikoto had learned more than anyone realized during her time at Fuuka. She was still putting it together, but she was learning what was important. 'Love is good.' Love could be selfish and painful, and it could grow away from its roots until it was something else entirely. But even with its many faults and possible traps, to love was the greatest thing a person could do— even better than the destruction of their enemies. To be loved, for what you had to offer or just the mere fact of you being alive, was an honor and a treasure that she would never take for granted.

_"Yet when the dragon attacked…"_  
_A Firebird befriended a princess who did not wish to marry the king who sent for her, but the wily huntsman instead. Kagatsuchi was an odd looking thing with the mass of a dragon, the voice of a whale, the gentleness of a puppy, and with his mistress's control of fire, he was a phoenix. Mai had been sought, lured in by the Obsidian Lord. As she accepted her feelings and those of the people who truly loved her, the king had no chance to stand against them all._

Mai's name meant 'to dance', so naturally it was the first kanji the girl had learned. She thought of herself more as a singer than a dancer, but somehow she couldn't deny that rhythm, motion, and wordless expression were a part of her. Midori, in an odd mood, had once emailed her a link that occasionally came back to flit dangerously through Mai's thoughts. Had she been meant to perform _Petrushka_? _Le Sacre du Printempts_? In the end she had chosen her own tune and made her own steps— with the help and intentions of the other dancers.

_"Determined to rule the land with grief…"_  
_They had all acted as puppets, longing to be 'real' girls and boys, but one Pinocchio truly stood out. Reito had been taken over by that mass of selfish sadism. He had watched, helpless as the people around him were pushed towards anger, misery, and loss. He had felt that damn alien grow stronger as they suffered. He had yearned for that evil to be burned away from him, even if it destroyed him as well, just so he would never have to be party to such depravity again._

Alyssa knew pain on an intimate level, as something part of her life, part of herself. Sears' golden child knew what it was to be a tool, and to be grateful for a purpose in the name of hope for the future. The stolen daughter had sung from her tower— until she'd had enough of it. She knew that her handlers had mostly been full of crap, and in the wake of her second chance she was torn on just how to react. She wanted to lash out, to lead, to follow, to actually be a child— or as near as she could be. She wanted to sing and had no patience for people who only wanted by halves.

_"They stood together, and were victorious."_  
_Twelve Dancing Princesses had waited their turn for the fire. This time the dance had included an extra person, one more pair of shoes to end up battered outside the door. On the very last night, before they'd have all been stolen by the goblin's hoards, Sleeping Beauty stopped dreaming of her prince and chose to save herself. By the light of her triumph she led her sisters out of darkness and death._

End_  
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**Notes**: This was written for the Teaparty for MUses project at Mai-Universe. Crosswood and Kyanobenthes both gave me fabulous suggestions on how to improve this story— and if I was a more disciplined author I would have taken even more of those suggestions. Between them I assure you that any errors left are a result of my own foolishness. E.M. Praetorian and Kampilan also have my thanks for their encouragement and support._  
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